“Now that we have the pissing contest out of the way, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

I released the energy and re-formed my hand. The veil of tiredness ran through me. It was going to be a while yet before I could claim that part of me more fully. “You came to me, Hunter, so why don’t you tell me what the hell you want?”

“I want to help you.”

I snorted loudly. “Yeah, right. Believing that.” The only thing Hunter was interested in furthering was her own agenda.

She arched that eyebrow again. “You do not believe that I want to catch your mother’s killer?”

“Oh, I believe you will place the full might of the Directorate behind it. I just don’t believe that’s what you actually came all the way up here to tell me.”

“And you’d be right.”

She uncrossed her arms, then pushed away from the car and walked toward me, every movement economical and yet powerful. Dangerous. She stopped several feet away, her scent teasing the air. It was pleasant enough—until you saw what lay underneath it.

There was no warmth in her, no lingering vestige of humanity. She was a vampire in thought and deed, and that was all she cared about.

She might have started the Directorate, but it hadn’t been for humanity’s sake. Rather, it had been little more than a PR exercise for the vampire council.

If ruthlessness and cunning had a smell, then it would be this woman.

“You are your mother’s daughter, aren’t you?” she commented. “But you are right, of course. It benefited the council to have humanity protected by a body perceived as separate from the council.”

Part of me wondered what Rhoan would say to something like that, and whether Jack actually knew he was running a front for the council. But the truth was, it didn’t really matter. Not to me. And I very much suspected it wouldn’t matter to humanity, either, simply because the Directorate did protect them.

“Director, either tell me why you’re here, or leave.”

She gave me one of those cool vampire smiles. “I want you to work for me.”

For me. Not the directorate. Her. “Why?”

“I believe we could be useful to each other.”

I paused. “Why would you think I’d in any way want to help the vampire council?”

“Because you want to find your mother’s killer.”

“The Directorate has that investigation well under control.” And even if there were very little in the way of leads, I had faith in Uncle Rhoan. If anyone could catch whoever had done this, he could.

“The Directorate, as efficient as it has proven itself to be at hunting and killing those foolish enough to transgress against humans, has neither the proficiency nor the potency of the high council. Trust me when I say it is like comparing a breeze to a cyclone.”

“To quote an old, somewhat clichéd saying … I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

Humor flirted with her lips. I wondered if emotion ever did.

“Which is most definitely wise. However, I am serious. I want your help, and in return you will have the full services of the council and its Cazadors to hunt down this killer.”

“Why the hell would I want the help of the Cazadors? They’re little more than leashed murderers, aren’t they?” A fact I knew because Uncle Quinn had once been one. He’d survived the experience, which apparently was rare in that line of work.

“The Cazadors are the most dangerous and deadly hunters ever created. Once they are unleashed, they will not stop until they bring down and destroy their target. If anyone can find the person or persons behind your mother’s slaughter, it will be them.” She hesitated, and that cold, cool smile twitched her lips again. “They do not have the legal restrictions that the Directorate has.”

I stared at her for a moment, trying to ignore the chill creeping across my skin, the knot of fear deep inside that suggested even standing here listening to this was a very dangerous thing to do.

“I can’t give you my father. He doesn’t exist on this plane anymore. His recourse to flesh has been stripped from him.”

“So you have had contact with him?”

“Briefly. He didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

If she sensed the lie, she didn’t react to it. “Which means there is the possibility he might contact you in the future.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “So is that all you want me to do? Inform you when my absent parent contacts me?”

“In part, yes.”

“And the rest of it?”

She tilted her head sideways and studied me for a minute. “You are aware, of course, that all three of the dark path’s gates were recently opened?”

I nodded, then crossed my arms and waited for the rest of it. And tried to ignore the thick knot of apprehension growing in my stomach.

“Were you also aware that, in the brief time they were open, things came back through?”

I stared at her, then licked my suddenly dry lips and said, “Things? What sort of things?”

She shrugged. “Creatures who can gain flesh and walk in this world, and others who maintain spectral form and who can only be seen by those with certain talents.”

Like mine.

“I am not a hunter or a killer, nor do I wish to be.” But Azriel was. And if things had come back through the gates, why hadn’t he mentioned it?

Then again, why would he?

I was not part of his world. I was just a chore—someone he had to follow against his own wishes and desires.

Although if things had come through, then it explained why the Mijai were apparently so busy—and why he was so pissed off about having to tag around after me.

“We would not expect you to kill. We have Cazadors more than capable of doing that.”

I frowned. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“Hunt.”

“No.” It came out automatically. Walking the gray fields to talk to a soul lost or confused was one thing. Hunting an escapee from the bowels of hell was another matter altogether.

“But what if one of those creatures was responsible for your mother’s death?”

“It wasn’t.” Again, the response was automatic. And yet, it was a possibility—it was just one I didn’t want to consider. Mom had spent half her life conversing with spirits. I didn’t want to believe one of them had killed her.

Hunter merely smiled. It was a cold, inhuman thing. “The crime scene was clean. Completely and utterly. There was no DNA, no prints, no evidence of any kind that anyone other than your mother, the housekeeper, and the occasional guest—all of whom have been vetted and cleared—has ever been in that kitchen. The place was not wiped down in any way. There is simply nothing there to indicate who or what might have done this.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. Not when she was giving me facts that could only ever lead to a conclusion I didn’t want to believe.

“The Directorate will never find this killer if it is a spirit, but we can,” Hunter said. “Trust me on that.”

I stared at her, digesting not so much the words as the unspoken threat behind them. “You would ensure that?”

She looked surprised that I would even ask such a question. “Of course.”

“But why?”

“Because I have always done what must be done to keep my people safe. And these spirits—as well as the people who opened the gates and released them—threaten that.”

Her people. Not humanity. Not the rest of us. “But you’ve already said you have Cazadors who can hunt spirits, so why do you need me?”

“We have Cazadors who astral-travel, true, but if we had someone who could walk the fields at will and track down the location of our targets, it would make their job easier.”

There was a ring of truth to her words, but that didn’t mean I believed them. There was more to this. There were the gates, and the keys, and her desire to control them for the high council’s benefit.

But to achieve any of that, she needed me on her team.

“The one thing you have to ask yourself, Risa,” she said softly, “is just how desperately you want to find your mother’s killer.”

I didn’t answer, simply because it was a pointless question. We both already knew the answer.

“Become an adviser to the council, and I will throw every available resource we have at tracking down those responsible.” She paused, and that cold, cruel smile touched her lips again. “Refuse, and not only will the killer go free, but you will bear some responsibility for whatever destruction hell’s escapees wreak.”

That wasn’t fair, and we both knew it. But she hadn’t come up here to play fair. She’d come up here to get what she wanted.

And what she wanted was me.

It would be madness to accept. Sheer and utter madness. I knew it, but I did it anyway.

“You betray me, you play me or try to control me in any way, and I will destroy you, Hunter. Whether you believe I can or not.”

“I will play as fair with you as you play with me.” She held out her hand. “Deal?”

“Deal,” I said, and clasped her hand. Her flesh was cool against mine, her grip like iron.

And I knew in that instant I’d made a deal with the devil herself.

But I didn’t f**king care.

I had a vow to keep, and a killer to hunt down.

Vengeance would be mine.